What a Journey It Would Be
by shewasa-silvergirl
Summary: A prequel to Walking Away, but it works well as a stand-alone fic. This spans from the time Haymitch and Effie met up until they got on the train with Katniss and Peeta to go to the 75th Games. There is definite Hayffie here. Enjoy!
1. Ch 1: Pretty Little Model

Haymitch sat in the bar, drinking whiskey and laughing with some of the other mentors. It was Chaff who noticed her first: a pretty little model wearing heavy makeup, a curly blonde wig with a huge blue flower stuck in the left side, and a pale blue dress that flared substantially at the bottom but stopped at her mid-thigh. Her heels seemed a mile high, and she trotted happily around, kissing the cheeks of anyone she recognized.

"Rumour has it that one's up for an escort position," Chaff told Haymitch. Haymitch rolled his eyes and shot back,

"What is she, nineteen?"

"Almost twenty," Chaff confirmed, taking a swig of whiskey.

"Nineteen almost twenty… she'll never get it. She's too young." Haymitch watched her chat happily away with District 4's escort; she was twenty years younger than her, but she seemed to be holding her own with the older woman very, very well, and 4's escort was known to be a shark.

"I don't know; she's pretty and veeeerrrryyy popular around here," Chaff said, continuing to eye the girl, "Anyway, if she does get a position, it'll be in your district."

12's escort was retiring that year after a five-year run; no one stayed 12's escort longer than that, mostly because Haymitch drove them crazy and 12 never produced a winner anyway. Besides, Accalia was fifty now—old by escort standards. But there was no way this child would get this position. Just then, though, Chaff slapped Haymitch's shoulder and pointed in the young woman's direction; a man—much, much older than she was—had come up and was calling her obscenely rude names in an obvious attempt to get her in his bed. He heard her yell,

"Excuse me sir! You will NOT talk to ME that way. That is RUDE and absolutely uncalled for! Now, get out of here! And if you EVER come near me or one of my friends again, that WILL be the end of you! Go on! Get out!"

The man, looking extremely humiliated, stumbled out of the room, obviously drunk. Everyone in the bar was clapping, and Chaff yelled at her "You tell him, love!" and was roaring with laughter.

"Oh no…" Haymitch said, burying his face in his palms. When he looked up, he saw the girl wiggle her fingers at him as she walked out of the bar.

"Well good buddy," Chaff boomed, "that sweet little thing will be yours to deal with next year. You better get ready for her; bitch don't play."

Haymitch groaned. He was doomed.


	2. Ch 2: Well

On Reaping Day the next year, Haymitch heard a loud knock on his door far too early in the morning. He tried to ignore it, but the noise just kept getting louder and faster to the point of being obnoxious. Finally, he went to the door and opened it up to find _her_: the pretty model from the bar who was way too young have this job. She greeted him with an overly-bubbly,

"Good morning, Mr. Abernathy; I'm Effie Trinket, Disctrict 12's new escort. It's lovely to meet you."

Haymitch looked her over once, twice, maybe three times; she was tall, and her heels made her look like a skyscraper in front of him. He supposed she was pretty under all of the makeup she was wearing, but there was no way to be sure. Her smile was blinding, and her eyes sparkled like sapphires against her pale skin. She wore a figure-hugging pink dress that looked almost fluorescent against 12's grey sky. Her wig was a silvery-white color, and in it was a large pink flower that matched her dress. She looked ridiculous; like a kid trying to play dress-up. Her hand was extended, but she drew it back after a moment, seeing that Haymitch Abernathy had no intentions of shaking it.

"Well…" She tapped her foot and looking around; her nose was crinkled because of the smell coming from the inside of the house, "We have two hours until the ceremony begins; here is your schedule, and I will see you there." She tapped him twice on the shoulder with the tips of her fingers before she left. Haymitch looked down at the black folder and inside it found laminated sheets of the schedule he was meant to follow over the next few days. He had to give her credit, the woman was organized.

* * *

Effie had no idea how the man managed to get drunk so quickly; or, perhaps he had been drunk when she had arrived and she hadn't noticed. Either way, Haymitch Abernathy was late, and he stumbled onto the stage just as she was meant to begin speaking, grabbing her and almost making her fall over as she got up to go to the microphone. Somehow, though, Effie managed to keep her composure and walk calmly to the front of the stage. She was not going to let that one incident ruin her first time on television as an escort. Sure, she had been on the catwalk and in magazines before, but that was no comparison to being watched by everyone all over Panem; she had to play it cool and make sure it went perfectly.

She drew from the bowls a girl who was seventeen and a boy who was sixteen; they were both close to her in age, and she couldn't help but love them at once. She set it in her mind right then that she would do everything in her power to help them make it through the games.

Unfortunately, she would come to find out quickly that nothing could be done to save them.


	3. Ch 3: You're Just a Kid Yourself

"You didn't even TRY to help her!" Effie cried. The boy had died in the bloodbath at the Cornucopia, but the girl had made it into the top 12. Unfortunately, she was starving to death, and wound up letting District 1's male tribute put a knife through her chest as she slept; she hadn't even tried to hide.

"Wake the fuck UP princess," Haymitch shot back, "There was nothing, _nothing_ I could do to help her. She would never have made it anyway."

"You wouldn't sign any of the deals I procured for her! She had sponsors who were willing to help her, and you wouldn't sign the forms! You didn't do anything! You could have at least _tried_!"

Effie and Haymitch sat in silence, seething over how ridiculous each thought the other was. He hated her accent; she hated his stubbornness.

"Look," Haymitch said, "This is a lesson to you not to get too close to the tributes."

"I didn't-"

"Yes princess, you did. She wasn't much younger than you are, and you were too friendly with her the whole time you were with her. You can't do that; you can't make friends with them."

Effie responded quietly, "She reminded me so much of some of the girls I train when they come into modeling. I didn't think I was getting close to her; I was just trying to help her, to show her _some _compassion. You certainly didn't."

"You're too young," Haymitch said, getting up and pouring a glass of whiskey, "You should never have been given this job. You're just a kid yourself."

Haymitch walked out, leaving Effie alone in the penthouse's living room. Maybe he was right; maybe she was too young to have this job. But, she couldn't quit now; she was a part of the Games, and that was forever until the day she was old enough to retire.


	4. Ch 4: No Problem

Three years later, after losing another set of tributes and Haymitch being absolutely stubborn and refusing to help procure sponsors, Effie sat alone in her apartment, trying to figure out how to make it work the next year. It would be their fifth year together, the year when most escorts quit the position and moved on to something else.

Effie had started dating someone before the Games that year, and, although he said he loved her, she felt like something was wrong about their relationship. But, she was too afraid to back out.

The next year, Haymitch saw something different in Effie. She looked tired and ragged; she wasn't nearly as peppy as she usually was when she came to his door.

"What happened to you, sweetheart?" he asked, looking down at her right ankle, which sported a white brace that obviously meant she had been injured doing something, "Trip in one of your crazy heels?"

"It doesn't concern you, Haymitch!" she exclaimed. Haymitch heard it in her voice: fear.

"Is everything okay?" Haymitch asked, noting that Effie was beginning to tear up.

"Everything is fine, Haymitch. Now, get dressed; the Reaping starts in less than two hours."

He watched as she hobbled away, still wearing heels despite the injury; he knew it was all for television.

After the Reaping, Haymitch, Effie, and the two newest tributes got aboard the train. Effie almost fell backward off the steps getting on, and it took all three of the others to help steady her and get her seated.

"Are you alright?" the girl asked. Adalia; 13; cute, but ultimately not strong enough to make it through the first round of killings.

"I'm fine, dear," Effie said, taking her shoes off and laying back on the couch. She was in pain; she didn't care what anyone there thought of her at that moment.

"You two go into your rooms, alright?" Haymitch asked of them; the two children obliged his request and slipped off silently into their compartments. "Effie, what's going on? You've been acting funny all morning, and you're clearly hurt. What is it?"

Effie looked at him and said, "I don't have to tell you anything, Haymitch. We are not friends, and you wouldn't care anyway."

Haymitch knew she had been dating a guy that everyone in the Capitol said was trouble. Chaff had called him already and let him know that he thought the guy was treating Effie badly. "Is it your boyfriend, Effie? Is he hurting you?"

"It isn't any of your business, Haymitch!" Effie yelled. But, she knew she might as well have said 'yes,' because that answer gave it all away.

"Effie, just tell me," Haymitch said.

"He pushed me when we were with my friends a few days ago," Effie whispered, obviously ashamed. "I sprained my ankle when I fell over. I don't even know what caused it; I was just chatting with my girl-friend about a spread we're shooting next month, and I guess I hadn't been paying attention to him or something."

Haymitch handed her his handkerchief to dry her eyes on; he didn't care that it would be ruined. "Effie, has he hurt you before?"

"Yes," she admitted, dotting the edges of her eyes and sniffing. She sat up and pulled of her blazer to reveal a network of bruises on her arms; it was enough to make Haymitch wish he hadn't been drinking that morning. "I don't know what to do; I'm scared to break up with him—he might kill me."

"We're gonna get this taken care of, princess," Haymitch said, helping her back into her blazer and letting her lean on him and he escorted her into her room. "Get yourself cleaned up, alright?" She nodded and asked,

"Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?"

He slid the compartment door closed without an answer. The truth was, as much as he hated her most of the time, the woman didn't deserve to be abused in the least bit.

* * *

"Haymitch, I want to thank you again for getting rid of that scumball," Effie said after dinner was over and the kids had gone to bed a couple of nights later. Haymitch, always one to call in a few favors if he needed to, had managed to make sure the man never came into Effie's life ever again. He would never tell Effie how, though, as he knew she wouldn't approve.

"No problem, sweetheart," he said, clinking his glass to hers. She rolled her eyes and finished off the margarita she had been drinking.

"Well," she said, getting up and pushing her seat underneath the table, "I'm grateful for whatever you did. I'm headed off to bed now; we have another big, big, big day ahead of us. Goodnight."

Haymitch watched as Effie hobbled off to bed, barefoot and tender on her hurt ankle. This year was the first one he had felt any sort of affection for the escort; he tried to push the thought that he felt anything for her out of his mind. He had simply done what any decent human being would do—help someone who was in trouble and couldn't get out of it themselves.

At least, he told himself that.


	5. Ch 5: Optimistic

Two years later, Effie and Haymitch sat alone on the couch in the penthouse. They had lost their newest pair of tributes at the Cornucopia that morning, and neither one had really been watching the Games since. The stylists had gone to watch them with the other districts' teams, and Effie and Haymitch had left the bar that the other victors were watching the Games in.

"Effie, why don't you ever watch the Games with the other escorts?" Haymitch asked her. In their seven years together, she had never once joined the other districts' escorts in any of the "festivities."

"They don't like me," Effie replied. _And you don't like them_, Haymitch thought, "And besides," she continued, "It's too late for me to join them now; I've watched them with you and your friends for too long."

Effie was an outsider to all of the other escorts and, oddly enough, a lot more bearable. Effie, at least, could hold an intelligent conversation and the other victors all seemed to like her fairly well. Haymitch knew that Effie cared more about the tributes than the other escorts did, and she did not like how they talked about 12. Effie was also much younger than them, and, even though she was 27 now and not the same girl she was at 20, they still acted like she was new to the whole thing—like she didn't know by now what she was doing.

"Well, I won't argue with that," Haymitch told her.

Effie was surprised by this; he _loved_ to argue with her.

"Haymitch, do you think we'll ever have a winner?"

"No," he answered bluntly, "No kid in 12 has what it takes. Why are you asking?"

"I was just wondering what you thought," Effie said with a small shrug, "People are always asking me that, but I tell them I think we will."

"Do you really believe that?" Haymitch asked.

"Well…" Effie thought on it for a moment, "Yes, I do. I think we have a chance at producing a winner at some point; I mean, it had been, what, a twenty-year spell before you won yours? So, yes, I do really believe that we _could_ have a winner." She looked around the room nervously before her eyes settled back on Haymitch's face. He didn't look angry, or even upset; he looked fascinated, actually.

"You are something else, you know that?" Haymitch patted her on the shoulder and got up, poured himself a drink, and walked back into his bedroom.

He had to admit—Effie Trinket was one of the most optimistic people he knew, and that wasn't necessarily a bad thing.


	6. Ch 6: Are You Two?

This one might be a bit ooc toward the end, but it was a fun scene in my head, so I had to write it. Enjoy

* * *

Ten years. They had been working together for ten years; she had lasted longer than any escort ever had in Haymitch's years as a victor. Ten years had been kinder to her than to him; she still looked almost the same as she had the day they met. Almost.

Effie, as was tradition, showed up to his house two hours before the Reaping, shoved a schedule in his hands, and told him to get dressed. Haymitch was already drunk when she got there, and her attitude toward him was colder than usual. She had given up all hope that he would be sober when she came to his door.

Effie was unhappy after the Reaping that morning. Haymitch had made a fool of himself and of her by trying to hug her on stage. However, having a tribute volunteer was a first, and perhaps it had distracted Panem's audience from the fact that she had been publicly molested and that her wig was askew during the whole ceremony.

"Look here Haymitch!" she said loudly that night on the train, "We are ten years into this, and _never_ in all those years have I been so embarrassed to know you as I was today. We might have a winner this year, and you need to keep that in mind as we go through this week. And don't you **ever** embarrass me like that again. _Ever!_"

Even though Haymitch was drunk, he had heard every word the woman said in that stupid accent of hers (which was strong even by Capitol standards; actually, he wasn't sure he had ever heard _any_ other Capitol citizen talk like that), and he could tell she was unhappy. "Alright, alright, princess, don't get your wig all twisted, damn. You're crazier than usual this year."

"Shut up and go to bed, Haymitch; you're drunk." The escort was so bloody _demanding_; Haymitch had long debated if this was a good or bad quality of hers. Tonight, it was bad.

"Alright, alright," Haymitch said, pouring himself one more glass of whiskey before going to his room, "Despicable woman."

* * *

"Haymitch, I would like you to meet my friends Cinna and Portia. Cinna is Katniss's stylist, and Portia is Peeta's."

Haymitch looked at the two stylists and, much to his surprise, he liked the looks of them. Cinna was dressed simply in black, and his only makeup was a flick of gold eyeliner; Portia was decadently dressed, but her outfit was nowhere near as outrageous as some of the ones Effie had worn over the years, and she smiled at him as if she was genuinely happy to meet him. Haymitch shook hands with them and said,

"Yeah, it's good to meet you. How long have you known Effie?" She had said they were friends, after all.

"I've known Effie for years," Portia answered, "I started doing makeup about the same time she started modeling; I've even done hers a few times."

"And I met Effie about seven years ago when I got the pleasure of being her stylist for a shoot," responded Cinna, "She's a demanding thing, though." Cinna winked in Effie's direction, and she gave him a smirk and said,

"I have an image to upkeep, you know. Besides, I never complained about the job either of you did; I would rather have one of you than some of the other artists they've put me with over the years."

"I hear you do your own makeup now, though," Portia said, "I really enjoyed what you did for last year's fall shoot; you looked like a queen."

"Thank you, Portia. I suppose we should let the two of you go and do your magic on our tributes; we'll see you after the opening ceremony," Effie sighed; it was clear that she wished she could talk with them a little longer.

"They seem better than the stylists we've had before," Haymitch stated with a tone of approval. Effie was relieved; maybe he wouldn't try to pick a fight with them like he had all of the other stylists they had worked with.

"Wait until you see the outfits they have planned for Katniss and Peeta," Effie said.

"Wait, they aren't wearing coal miner's outfits?" Haymitch was surprised; 12 had been coal miners since, well, forever. He shuddered at the memory of the outfit from his own opening ceremony.

"Absolutely not," Effie stated, "Cinna and Portia are looking to bring some spark to District 12's escorts this year."

"How do you know all of this? Don't the stylists usually keep these things secret?"

"Well… being friends with them has its perks, and they let me take a peek at the outfits they have planned for the next few days. But, that's all I'm allowed to say; I can't wait to see how our two tributes look this year!"

Haymitch rolled his eyes at Effie's excitement, but he did admit to himself that he was curious to see what the two new stylists had come up with.

* * *

"I have to hand it to you two, those outfits were impressive," Haymitch told Cinna and Portia after Katniss and Peeta went to bed that night.

"Thank you," Cinna and Portia replied together. Effie was nibbling on a chocolate-covered strawberry (which Haymitch knew was her favourite dessert) and humming to herself; Haymitch couldn't help but wonder what was going on inside of her head.

Cinna looked at Effie as if she were crazy, then asked, "Effie, are you alright?"

"What?" Effie snapped out of her trance and looked around the table, noticing that everyone was giving her the same awkward glare. "I'm sorry; I've had that tune stuck in my head all day."

"What is the song, Effie?" Portia asked.

"Oh, it's just a jazz song," Effie answered, "You know, the one that goes…" Effie began to sing the tune out loud; Haymitch had never heard her song anything before, and her voice wasn't terrible. With a little effort, he felt like she could actually be pretty good.

Cinna added background beat, and Portia snapped in time to what Cinna and Effie were doing; Haymitch rolled his eyes at them all. They were supposed to be discussing the next day's business, not having a jam session. He had to admit, though, he was enjoying it.

"You all are ridiculous," Haymitch butted in, breaking up the fun, "We're supposed to be talking about plans for the next few days, remember?"

"Fancy you being the serious one," Effie giggled.

"Well, you aren't doing your job, now, are you?" Haymitch teased.

"Whoah, whoah, whoah," Portia said, swiping her finger back and forth between the two of them, "Are you two…?"

"NO," Haymitch and Effie boomed together.

"Just checking," Portia said, shooting Cinna a look that clearly meant she didn't believe them.

"Alright, alright," Cinna said as Effie shot him a disgusted look, "Let's get back to work."

When they all retired to their rooms for the night, Effie jumped into the shower and thought about what Portia had been insinuating. Did she and Haymitch really act like a couple? They had been working together for a long time, but surely other people didn't think their relationship went beyond being professional?

Did it?


	7. Ch 7: Hate

Effie, Haymitch, Portia, and Cinna spent the first night of the games watching the television in the penthouse, eating, talking, and hoping that their tributes would make it through.

"They've done well so far," Effie said, "Maybe this year really will be different."

"Don't go getting ideas there, sweetheart; it's only the first night." Haymitch poured another glass of scotch and sat down next to Effie on the long couch. Effie rolled her eyes and cocked her head to the side. She gave a little huff and said,

"I know you know I'm right."

"I'm just telling you not to get your hopes up to high, that's all," said Haymitch. He would never admit to her that he really _did_ think she was right about this year.

"You always do this," Effie whined, "You always tell me that I shouldn't get my hopes up that one of our tributes might actually make it out. But there's always a chance, isn't there?"

"Whatever you say, princess," Haymitch said; he was tired of arguing with her.

Cinna and Portia, who were sitting next to each other on the opposite side of Effie, looked at each other and laughed.

"You two argue like an old married couple," Portia giggled.

Effie gave them a horrified look and yelled, "I have _told_ you two already, we are _not_ a couple, so don't even _think_ it."

Cinna threw his hands up and said, "Hey, we weren't trying to start anything; what you two do with your personal lives is none of our business."

Cinna thought Effie's wig might pop off right then; Portia slapped Cinna on the arm. Haymitch, very coolly, said,

"Calm down Effie, he was just joking."

"It's a rude joke!" Effie cried, "He shouldn't be saying things like that! We could get in trouble if people think…"

"Think what, Effie? That's we're together? Yeah, right. Everyone outside of this room knows we hate each other."

The room was silent for a few minutes. Haymitch gulped down one drink and opened up a new bottle for the next; he noticed Effie was staring at her hands that were folded in her lap and somehow knew he had crossed the line.

"Haymitch… do you really _hate_ me?" Effie asked. Sure, they bickered over things, but surely they didn't _hate_ one another?

Cinna and Portia looked suddenly guilty and didn't know whether to stay or leave. But, before they could get up, Haymitch answered,

"Come on, you know that's not what I meant."

"Didn't you?" Effie whispered, shaking her head, getting up, and half-running out of the room before anyone could see her cry.

"We're sorry," Portia told Haymitch, "We didn't mean to cause anything."

"Don't worry about it," Haymitch said, "She'll be over it tomorrow."

Effie joined them all in silence the next morning. Cinna and Portia could tell that Effie had not gotten over her spat with Haymitch, and they still felt like they were partly to blame. Finally, Effie spoke,

"We have to start signing deals with sponsors today, Haymitch." He felt the chill coming off of her from across the table; he had seriously thought she would have forgiven his error in speech by now.

"Effie…" Haymitch took a few seconds to think about what he wanted to say, as he didn't want to create any more tension. Seeing that Effie was glaring at him, he went on, "I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean it the way it sounded."

"Then how did you mean it?" asked Effie. Her voice was not angry, which was surprising to Haymitch.

"It's… well, we… we don't always agree with each other and we argue all the time, so… to other people, I mean, it looks like we… it looks like we don't like each other, that's all."

Effie stated quietly, "That isn't how you said it last night." She was obviously tired; Haymitch wondered how long she had stayed up crying the night before.

"Effie, I'm sorry," Haymitch offered finally, "I shouldn't have said that." He was hoping that the apology might make up for it, as that's what she usually wanted when someone breached etiquette anyway.

The Avox girl brought Effie a mug of coffee, and Effie took a few sips of it before sighing and saying,

"You know, what I found most insulting is not that you said you hate me, but that you said that I hate you; you are the last person on earth that I would say I hated."

Haymitch looked her over a couple of times and shook his head, "I don't hate you, either, Effie. You _do_ get on my nerves, though."

Effie laughed, and everyone at the table knew the fight was over. Portia said,

"Well, it's nice to see that you two are back to normal. Now, we should probably check on our tributes."

"You're right," Cinna agreed, "And, for the record, I really do think you two would make a very nice couple."

Effie hit Cinna on the arm as he passed her, and Haymitch said, "Whatever."

In Cinna's dreams, maybe.


	8. Ch 8: We Won

"Haymitch, we… we _won_."

Everyone in the room was quiet with disbelief. Not only had they won, they had managed to get both tributes out of the arena; a first in Hunger Games history. Effie slipped her arms around Haymitch and let out a breathy laugh.

"Yeah, we did," said Haymitch. He was shocked both by Katniss and Peeta's daring move and by the hug he was receiving from Effie. As soon as Effie pulled away, Chaff boomed

"Nice job, you two!" He smacked Haymitch on the back and popped Effie on the mouth with his own lips; even after knowing the man for so many years, Effie still made a face at his brashness.

"That is disgusting and you _know_ it," Effie chided amidst the laughter from Cinna, Portia, and the other tributes that had joined them to watch. "Well, we all had better get out of here; we'll be expected to meet our victors and get ready for interviews and the likes."

Haymitch followed Effie out of the room; he felt her nervous energy from behind. Haymitch put a hand on her back and began to walk beside her. In the elevator, Effie said,

"They shouldn't have done that, should they have?"

"It'll be fine, Effie," he said. He didn't know what would happen, but she certainly didn't need to worry over it too much just then; there were too many other things that they needed to be concerned over. Haymitch rubbed his thumb over a tender spot on the small of her back, trying to ease the tension of the moment.

"Right," she said, taking a deep breath and not even trying to fend him off, "You're right; there's nothing to get all worked up about."

Effie sighed, and Haymitch knew that she would be worried anyway. She'd never say she suspected anything might happen, but Haymitch knew she felt it, which was almost as bad.

Cinna and Portia met Effie and Haymitch in the lobby.

"Well," Effie began, "let's go. We have a lot to do."

* * *

"I'll see you for the Victory Tour," Effie said as she got ready to head back to the Capitol; all of the festivities in 12 were over, and it was time for her to go.

"Yeah, I guess so," Haymitch responded.

"I'll be in touch," she said, turning away to leave his house.

"Effie," Haymitch called after her.

She spun around and said, "Yes?"

"Have a safe trip back."

"I will."

Haymitch watched her walk briskly in the direction of the train station, and he wondered how their lives would change from that moment forward.


	9. Ch 9: I Will

Effie Trinket's fame in the Capitol sky-rocketed after the 74th Games. Her modeling career, which had always been good, was better than ever, and, to Haymitch's annoyance, she sent him copies of every magazine she was featured in, along with copies of the pictures. He had to admit, though, the woman was a natural in front of the camera, and, in certain pictures, she was the definition of gorgeous.

When she showed up in 12 the day of the Tour, Haymitch avoided her as much as possible; actually, he managed to avoid her until they began to head to the train station. She must have felt that he wouldn't want to see her; she was fine with that—she had other things to attend to, anyway.

The schedule over the next 12 days was, as Effie put it, "a bit of a bear." Every night she went to bed a little more upset than she had been the night before, and Haymitch could tell that she was not as oblivious to the fact that things were going badly as he—or even Effie herself—would like to think. But, as long as she didn't say anything, he wasn't going to, either.

* * *

Haymitch hated the Capitol. Therefore, the second they stepped off the train, he bid Effie, Katniss, and Peeta goodbye and headed straight for the bar. He wanted to get an early start on making sure he remembered nothing about this night when he woke up the next morning.

"Oh, Haymitch, I wish you wouldn't drink like that," Effie chided as she walked up to order a drink of her own. A daiquiri of some sort; not something Haymitch cared for.

"Shouldn't you be out stuffing yourself?" Haymitch asked in annoyance. Her outfit was absolutely obnoxious (as usual), and her voice was getting on his drunken nerves.

"You know I don't eat like that," she said calmly.

It was true—she didn't. Effie was a light eater; not quite birdy, but she would definitely never eat enough that she felt the need to throw it up and start over again.

"Well," she said once the bartender had handed her her drink, "I'll see you when we get back to the train, then."

"Oh, joy."

Effie rolled her eyes and walked haughtily away, and Haymitch ordered another round of scotch.

Just as it should be at a party, in his opinion.

* * *

"I'm surprised to see you up so early," Effie said as Haymitch walked into the dining cart.

"What time is it?" he slurred. The booze had done its job; he didn't remember anything from the night before.

"Almost ten," Effie answered, "Katniss and Peeta are still in bed."

Effie was sitting in front of the window with a cup of coffee staring longingly outside; Haymitch knew she would have preferred to stay in the Capitol last night instead of having to come all the way to 12 just to have to turn around again. He sat down next to her and asked,

"How long have you been up?"

"I never went to sleep," she replied after drinking the last of her coffee and setting the mug on the table.

"It'll be over soon," Haymitch told her. She got up and said,

"It's never over."

As she closed the compartment door, Haymitch heard in her words what he had told Katniss and Peeta at the beginning of the trip: _you never get off this train._

This confirmed it: Effie knew that trouble was brewing. She knew that they weren't truly safe.

* * *

Once the banquet in 12 was over, Effie went straight from the Mayor's house to the train station. Haymitch walked her there this time. He didn't know why he wanted to, really; he had followed her out of the Mayor's house and not stopped.

"Have a safe trip home, Effie," Haymitch said when they reached the platform. He took her hand and gave her a quick look that Effie knew meant "watch out."

"I will," she replied to both statements. They each nodded and Effie climbed the stairs and got on the train without a second glance.

She would be back soon enough.


	10. Ch 10: Journey

"No…" Effie whispered when the Quarter Quell was announced. She was alone in her apartment, curled up on the white leather couch with a dark purple fleece blanket thrown over her. "No no no no no… please no…"

It seemed so unreal; how could they put victors back in the arena? Surely that wasn't written when the original Gamemakers wrote these Quells, was it? Effie put her forehead on her knees and cried for a while as it sunk in more and more that she was going to have to put her victors back in the arena. Except… what about Haymitch? What if he was the one who went into the arena? Effie's sobs became harder and harder until her chest felt like it might explode at any second. Finally, she lay back on the couch and cried herself to sleep.

* * *

She and Haymitch didn't call one another; it was too risky. The next time they saw one another was on the stage at the Reaping. She hadn't been allowed to go to his house before the Reaping, and had been forced to stay on the train until a Peacekeeper escorted her onto the stage. She had no way to make this situation seem more positive; this was hell.

She kept herself together as she pulled Katniss's name, but almost lost it as she pulled out Haymitch's name and watched Peeta volunteer for him. They were pulled off the stage before the ceremony was finished, and, when they got on the train, Effie knew this would be a difficult journey.

No one could have told her what a journey it would be.


End file.
